


if your heart's still open

by steveandbucky



Series: in any version of reality [20]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Background clint/nat - Freeform, Bottom Steve, Break Up, Breaking Up & Making Up, Getting Back Together, Happy Ending, Heartache, Honesty, Hurt/Comfort, Late Night Conversations, M/M, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Smut, power!bottom!steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 14:37:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8582248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/steveandbucky/pseuds/steveandbucky
Summary: “What’s wrong, Buck?”“You really gotta ask that?”“Yeah, I do.” Steve clenches his jaw. “You were the one who ended things.”





	

 

 

**29th of September 2016, 08:37PM**

 

“Steve?”

Steve lifts his head from where he’d been going through a pile of old photographs, and looks at Bucky, and his heart stops for a second. Bucky’s fumbling with the drawstrings of his sweatpants nervously; his eyebrows are pinched together in worry, his eyes filled with unshed tears, and his mouth turned downward into a unhappy pout.

“Buck?” Steve croaks out.

“Can we...talk?”

  
  
  


 

**14th of October 2016, 03:24PM**

 

“How bad is it?”

Clint cringes. Instead of replying, he shoves his phone toward the general direction of the living room, where Steve is curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow, while  _ We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together _ is blasting through his iPod dock. Repeatedly. 

Clint puts the phone back to his ear just in time to hear Natasha sigh, mumbling, “Bozhe moy,”  _ (my God) _ under her breath.

“Before this it was  _ Do I Wanna Know _ 27 times in a row.”

Another sigh. “Hasn’t it been like two weeks by now?”

“Well there’s been ups and downs,” Clint says, making his way back to his bedroom so he can talk to her in peace. “He seems fine most of the time, hasn’t missed any important lectures or shifts at work. But then this morning he found a stuffed bear Bucky gave him last year and, uh, yeah…”

“How are things on Bucky’s end?”

“Not great. I spoke to Sam yesterday and he seems to be developing a slight phobia of being glared at to death,” Clint says, grinning when he hears Natasha snort a laugh at his joke. “But I guess it’s more of the same. And we have no idea what to do, Nat, you have to come back and fix things with your mumbo-jumbo-voodoo-magic.”

“What?” Natasha laughs again.

“I don’t know, just…you have a way of fixing things.”

“There’s no magic-fix for this sort of thing. Just be there for them, both of them. Things will get better before I even get back.”

Clint sighs. “You know I blame you for this a little bit.”

“What?! How is this my fault?” Natasha exclaims.

“You introduced them to each other!”

“That was  _ three years ago _ ,” she argues. “And it’s definitely not my fault they’re acting like stubborn children and can’t just sit down and figure things out.”

Clint leans towards his closed bedroom door, then opens it and pokes his head out. He lets out a long-suffering sigh and says, “I think I gotta go, Nat. Now he’s switched to  _ Bad Blood,  _ I’m gonna go make sure he’s not throwing knives at the door again.”

“I thought that was Bucky’s thing?”

“Gotta go love ya bye!”

Clint hangs up the phone and throws it on his bed, then opens his door to step out and freezes in his spot, eyes growing wide as he comes across a very frowny Steve.

“Were you and Nat talking about me again?”

“W-what? No-”

Steve frowns even more, crossing his arms against his chest. He doesn’t say anything, just stands there with his jaw set and shoulders squared, all 200-something pounds of him, and Clint knows Steve’s a big softie on the inside but he can be pretty intimidating when he wants to.

Clint sighs, shoulders slumping in defeat. “We’re just  _ worried  _ about you.”

Steve rolls his eyes and turns on his heel, walking away, gritting out, “I’m  _ fine _ ,” and Clint knows better than to follow him, and leaves him to whatever it is Steve decides to do to vent out his anger. 

It turns out to be homemade brownies, stress-baking at its finest. Clint mentally pats himself on the back for a decision well-made.

  
  
  


 

**6th of November 2016, 06:38PM**

 

Steve is fine. Regardless if everyone else seems to think otherwise and keeps asking him,  _ ‘Are you okay?’ _ with that sad, pitiful look and a slight tilt of their heads, as if he’s a hurt stray puppy in need of a loving home.

Or, in Natasha’s case, staring him down with that calm, calculating expression, as if she’s assessing the situation. Steve stares back at her, straight in the eye, not backing down. 

Finally, Nat speaks up. “Clint says you tried to adopt a dog.”

“I did not.”

“You were googling dog names!” Clint exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger at him. 

Steve turns his head to glare at him, then looks back at Natasha. “Why did you marry this guy?”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Natasha waves a hand dismissively.

“Hey!” 

She ignores Clint’s cry of protest. “Did you or did you not try to get a dog?”

“Oh my god, it was  _ one _ time!” Steve throws his arms up. “I went to  _ one _ pet shelter and I was  _ mildly _ tempted to get a puppy, but if you look at a bunch of cute puppies and don’t want to adopt them you’re basically a psychopath. So would you please get off my back about it?”

In his defense, it was mostly because he missed hanging out with Mishka, Bucky’s 10-month-old nightmare of a dog, who chewed on his sneakers and woke him up by licking his face. But damn if Steve didn’t love that dog. A week ago, she’d spotted him in the park, when Steve was out for his run and she was on one of her walks. Mishka had come running towards him, quite literally dragging Bucky along by her leash. Steve had been so happy to see her, crouching down to pet her after she had finished jumping around him, putting her paws on his legs. He’d eventually got to his feet and  acknowledged Bucky, the two of them making small talk and catching up a little before they each went their way.

It hadn’t been awkward, which is what’s really awful about the situation. Since their breakup they’d run into each other at a few parties and gatherings and one study group, and they’d talked and made jokes without any uncomfortable tension, like they were friends. 

Steve hated it. After the meeting at the park, he’d gone home, showered, and cried himself to sleep that night, wishing so badly he could just go over to Bucky’s apartment and crawl into the bed next to him and fall asleep with Bucky’s arms around him, with Mishka curled up on the bed near their feet. 

But that had been a week ago. It had been a moment of weakness, feelings brought back by running into his ex-boyfriend, a completely normal reaction. It had been over a month since their breakup, and now he was doing better. He was  _ fine.  _ So, yes, everyone around him needed to fucking chill.

Natasha lets out a breath and shrugs, then moves from the armchair and curls up next to him on the couch. “You wanna order pizza and watch a bunch of Disney movies?”

“I love you,” Steve sighs, turning his head to drop a kiss on her head, throwing an arm around Nat’s shoulders. 

“Hey, that’s  _ my  _ wife!” Clint pouts and joins them on the couch, cuddling up to Natasha on her other side. 

“Your wife is requesting pizza, so get up and order us some.”

“Yes, dear.”

  
  
  


 

**13th of December 2016, 11:22AM**

 

Steve takes a deep breath and lets it out before he lifts his hand and knocks on the front door of Bucky’s apartment. His stomach is twisting in knots and his heart is racing in his chest, and Steve’s just taking deep, measured breaths lest he get an asthma attack, though he hasn’t had one in years. He hears Mishka barking, then footsteps running on the wooden floor and that all too familiar voice yelling _ ‘Get back here you little shit!’ _

The door swings open and Bucky’s there in front of him, and Steve forgets how to breathe. He looks like he’d been caught in the rain, hair a damp mess, the white tank top he’s wearing sticking to his chest, and panting heavily. Steve barely catches himself from breathing out a ‘wow’ at the sight in front of him.

“Hey, come in,” Bucky says, bending down to pick up his dog from where she’d been jumping around, tail wagging happily, clearly excited about seeing Steve. 

Steve crosses the threshold and closes the door behind him. “Um, hey, uh sorry to drop by-”

“No, it’s okay,” Bucky says while struggling to keep the little furball from escaping from his grasp. “Can you actually lend me a hand? I just gave her a bath and she won’t let me dry her.”

“Still scared of the hair dryer?” Steve’s lips curve into a small smile. 

“Yup,” Bucky looks up then and meets his gaze and Steve is taken aback slightly to have those pair of blue-grey eyes staring right into his own once again. 

He looks away and clears his throat. “Want me to hold her?”

Bucky nods and passes Mishka to him, who starts licking Steve’s face, making him laugh. “Eugh, gross, stop it,” Steve cringes and leans back but isn’t very successful at keeping her away from his face. 

He sits on the couch and settles her on his lap, and she starts attacking his hands instead, licking and biting them playfully. Bucky returns a moment later with the hair dryer and slowly starts drying her, keeping the device on the lowest setting, which of course means it takes forever. Mishka skips off the couch afterwards and retreats to her corner in the living room, curling up on her bed for a nap. 

Bucky throws his head back on the couch, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. A somewhat awkward silence settles around them, while Steve waits for Bucky to say something along the lines of  _ ‘why are you here’, _ surprised he hasn’t asked yet because. Well. He hasn’t been to Bucky’s place in a while. Because of the break up. 

Finally Bucky gets to his feet and turns to face him, asking, “You want something to drink?”

“Um…” Steve stutters.

“Hot cocoa?” Bucky asks, giving him a little smile, secretive, knowing. 

Something settles inside him and Steve feels his nerves fading away. “Yes, please.” he says, smiling back.

Bucky smiles even wider and heads to the kitchen to make the drinks, and Steve follows him, determined to ask the thing and get it out of the way.

“Uh, Clint said you’re not going home for Christmas?”

Bucky makes a grimace. “Yeah, can’t afford it. Plane tickets cost a shitload during the holiday season, so,” he shrugs. 

Steve nods slowly. “I could give you a ride. I mean, I’m driving home anyway, you could come with me. If you want.” 

“Oh,” Bucky mumbles, not meeting his gaze.

“I understand if you don’t want to,” Steve rambles on. “I just thought I’d offer, you know, I mean, it kinda sucks,  spending the holidays alone, and uh, you know, we can take turns driving and split the cost for gas and-”

“Thanks,” Bucky interrupts him, turning around to look him straight in the eye, the corners of his mouth curling up in a smile. “But you don’t have to.”

“I know I don’t  _ have _ to,” Steve frowns at him. “I’m offering because I want to.”

Bucky sighs, shoulders slumping. 

“Come on. I know you wanna see your family.” Steve offers, expression softening.

“Yeah,” Bucky whispers, nodding slowly. 

“Then you’ll come?”

Bucky lifts his shoulders and lets them drop. “I’ll come,” he says, conceding. 

“Good,” Steve grins, feeling happier than he thinks he should. 

“You sure you don’t mind?” 

“No. It’s a 19-hour drive home, and now I only have to drive nine and a half of those hours. You’re practically doing me a favour.”

Bucky rolls his eyes but grins, and says, “Alright,” before he goes back to making them hot cocoas. 

Steve shoots him a little smile then heads to the couch and flops down. Mishka hears him and climbs out of her bed, trotting towards the couch then jumping on it, so she can curl up next to Steve and go back to sleep. Bucky coos out loud when he comes in, a mug in each hand, and curls up on the armchair. 

Steve’s about to take his first sip when he hears Bucky mumble out a quiet, “Thank you,” eyes cast downwards. Steve smiles to himself, hiding his face behind the mug. He doesn’t say anything, instead drinks his cocoa and reaches out to pet Mishka’s fluffy head.

  
  
  
  


 

**21st of December 2016, 08:41AM**

 

Steve leans on the side of his car and sips on his black coffee while he not-so-patiently waits for Bucky to come down so they can get on the road. It’s too early and he’s not awake enough to feel all that nervous, which makes him feel better about the whole 19-hour-drive-with-his-ex thing. It’s been nearly three months since he and Bucky spent anything more than a half hour together, and while their post-breakup encounters have been perfectly fine, with barely any tension or awkwardness, Steve has no idea what to expect of this journey. Not to mention the possibility of getting snowed in and having to spending a night in a tiny hotel room - because contrary to what Bucky might say, Steve  _ is _ capable of planning ahead, and he’d called and booked a room in a little bed-and-breakfast, which they’d stumbled upon three years ago, during their first trip from Minneapolis to New York. 

Steve catches himself smiling at the memory and quickly shakes it off when he sees Bucky exiting from his apartment building, Mishka on her leash but running ahead of him.

“You’re late,” Steve says, and picks up the cup from the roof of his blue volkswagen, handing it to Bucky. “So your coffee’s gone cold. Sorry,” he says, not looking sorry at all. 

Bucky gives him a look. “Thanks.”

They load Bucky’s bags in the back of Steve’s car and get inside, Steve in the driver’s seat and Bucky occupying the passenger seat next to him. He tries to put his dog near his feet, but Mishka climbs on his lap and puts her paws on the window, panting excitedly.

“You didn’t mention the little devil was gonna join us,” Steve starts the ignition and starts driving. 

“Sorry,” Bucky says, looking sheepish. “Couldn’t find anyone to watch her ‘cause, you know, everyone’s going home for the holidays.”

“Nah, it’s alright,” Steve looks at the dog from the corner of his eye, smiling despite himself. He reaches out to pet her with one hand with of course only makes Mishka turn her attention to him, wanting to walk over and climb in his lap.

“No,” Steve puts his hand back on the steering wheel and shakes his head. “No, Mishka, stay back.”

“No!” Bucky repeats, raising his voice. “No, bad girl! Stay here!” He orders, pulling her towards his lap.

She turns towards him and tries to lick his face and Bucky sighs, giving up. Steve snorts out a laugh which he covers up with a cough. 

“Shut up,” Bucky mutters, which only makes him laugh again.

It gets quieter after that, once they get to the open road. Mishka climbs down Bucky’s lap and curls up near his feet, going to sleep. Steve puts on his road trip playlist and finds himself relaxing slowly, eyes focused on the road and letting his mind quiet down for a while. Bucky on the other hand sits with his feet tucked under his legs and his arms crossed against his chest, looking out the window and humming quietly under his breath from time to time. 

They make a quick stop for a big breakfast in a couple of hours time, at a diner they’ve been to before, since this isn’t the first time they’re making this trip, after all. Bucky offers to drive after that, and Steve climbs in the backseat to try and sleep a bit. He’d been up late, watching a god-awful horror movie with Clint and Nat, and he was currently regretting that decision. 

They continue taking turns driving, making light conversation when they’re both awake, and the time flies by. They make another stop to grab something to eat and buy some snacks for the road, and not before long it’s getting dark, and Steve finds that they’re nearing the town where the hotel they’re supposed to be staying at is. The weather is not as bad as had been predicted. No sign of snow or thunder, which means they could keep taking turns driving and get there by morning. He chews on his lip for a moment, unable to make a decision.

“What’re you glaring at?” Bucky asks, breaking the silence.

“I’m thinking.”

Bucky snorts. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

Steve punches his shoulder. “I booked us a room in a b&b for the night. Thought we might get snowed in or something.”

“Oh, yay, great! Good thinking. I’m exhausted.”

Steve sneaks a glance towards him. “So you wanna stop for the night, continue in the morning?”

“Yeah, definitely,” Bucky turns his head to look at him. “You don’t?”

“No, yeah,” Steve mumbles. “I mean if we don’t stop we’ll be home by morning-”

“Steeeve, nooo, pleaseee, I’m so tireeed.” Bucky whines, slumping in his seat. Steve doesn’t look at him but he  _ knows  _ Bucky is pouting like a child. 

“Okay, okay, jeez.”

“Thanks babe.”

Steve turns his head slowly to look at Bucky, smirking when he sees him blushing. Bucky shrugs and looks away, clearing his throat. “Sorry. Force of habit,” he mutters under his breath.

Steve snorts out in laughter, completely unexpectedly, and gets a hard poke in his ribs in return. 

  
  
  


 

**21st of December 2016, 08:23PM**

 

Steve keeps checking the door numbers as he walks down the narrow corridor, Bucky following him close behind with his dog in his arms.

“Mishka, listen to me carefully,” Bucky whispers to her. “You’re gonna have to be very quiet okay, because they don’t let dogs here and if they find you they’re gonna kick us out.”

“You know,” Steve says, digging their room key out of his pocket and unlocking the door. “I don’t think she understands as much English as you think she does.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, following Steve into the room. “Well I don’t speak any other language so-” he gets cut off when he walks straight into Steve’s very rigid back. “Ow.”

“Um,” Steve stammers, staring straight ahead. “I asked for twin beds.”

Bucky walks around him and stands next to him, eyeing the double bed in the centre of the bedroom. He hums thoughtfully, tilting his head to the side. “We can share, right?”

Steve feels too hot all of a sudden. “I’m gonna go ask if they have another room at the reception,” he mumbles, barely audible, and flies out of the room.

His trip down to the reception desk seems to be futile because the receptionist tells him that they don’t have any twin rooms available, unfortunately. When he gets back to the room, he walks in to see Bucky sprawled on the couch, already digging into their takeout which they’d picked up along the way. 

“Don't give me that look, I’m starving,” Bucky speaks with his mouth full.

Steve cringes, nose wrinkling. “No twin rooms. Guess you’re sleeping on the floor.”

“What? No, come on, I’m paying my half aren’t I?”

Steve looks at him and says nothing. 

“Screw you,  _ you’re _ sleeping on the floor.” Bucky scowls at him.

Steve remains silent, pursing his lips together as he struggles to keep a straight face, but Bucky sees right through him. He lets out a long-suffering sigh. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

Steve cracks into a big grin, and Bucky picks up a decorative pillow from the couch and tosses it at Steve, with a loud, “Fuck you, Rogers!”

“Hand me my onion rings, asshole,” Steve says, joining him on the couch.

Mishka sits in front of them, watching them eat with her puppy-dog eyes, hoping to guilt them into giving her some of their food. (It works. Steve gives her a few of his fries while Bucky lets her have the last bite of his burger.)

They shower after one another and change with their backs turned to each other. Steve sets an alarm on his phone while he brushes his teeth and watches from the corner of his eye as Bucky settles in bed, resting his head on the soft pillow and pulling the covers up to his chin. 

Steve runs back to the bathroom and washes his face with cold water and wills himself to calm the fuck down. He silently curses Bucky for being so fucking chill and not seeming at all uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with him. 

Yes, it’s something they’ve done before. Countless of times, in varying states of undress. 

But that’s  _ over _ now. They’re not a couple anymore. They’re just friends. No, they’re  _ exes. _

Steve curses himself for agreeing to stop for the night. He dries his face, takes a deep breath, and heads back out. He finds Bucky curled on his side, with Mishka next to him, already fast asleep. Steve almost feels bad about getting in bed and disturbing her, but all she does is get up, walk around in circles and settle back down in the middle of the bed, between the two men. 

Then it’s lights off, and the room gets dark, the heavy curtains blocking out most of the light from outside. Steve lies on his back, all too aware of the person lying in bed next to him. Who is not yet asleep, as far as Steve can tell, because Steve can tell by Bucky’s breathing; has lain in bed next to him far too many times, listening to his breathing evening out, relishing in the way Bucky would curl around him like a clingy starfish. 

Steve rolls over to his side, facing Bucky. Only a moment later he feels Bucky’s hand brushing against his, and suddenly Bucky is holding his hand, lacing their fingers together. Steve’s breath hitches in his throat. 

“I...I don’t know why I did that,” Bucky whispers in the darkness. Steve can barely see his face, but he’s willing to bet Bucky’s blushing, like he can hear it in his voice. 

Not knowing what else to say, Steve murmurs back, “Me neither.”

A moment of silence, then another whisper. “I like holding your hand.” 

“Me too.”

The logical part of Steve’s brain must have shut down, probably short-circuited trying to figure out what the hell is going on, all of Steve’s senses having zeroed on the warmth of Bucky’s hand in his. He shifts a little, leaning in, unsure and nervous. It’s so dark that Steve can barely see Bucky’s face, but he can feel his breath, mingling with his own. Their mouths meet and then they’re kissing, lips locking together perfectly, like puzzle pieces that fit together. Bucky makes a little hurt sound in the back of his throat, something needy and desperate, while Steve brings up his free hand to cup Bucky’s cheek, bring him even closer. 

Their little making out session apparently disrupts the household pet, who snuffles and jumps off the bed, trotting over to a corner where she curls up and goes right back to sleep.

Then Bucky is pulling him closer and Steve is climbing on top of him, aligning their bodies together while they kiss and kiss, only breaking up when the need for air becomes too great. Their faces stay close together, Steve’s forehead resting on Bucky’s, their noses brushing against each other’s. 

Bucky frees one of his hands from where Steve has pinned them over his head and brings it up to cup Steve’s cheek, thumb rubbing over his cheekbone. “I missed you, Stevie,” is all he says, voice almost breaking. 

Steve’s heart is racing. His stomach swoops as he hears those words, and he leans in to kiss Bucky again. Next thing he knows they’re pulling off each other’s t-shirts, while exchanging desperate, hungry kisses, mouths landing on every inch of newly bared skin, wanting to taste each other, hands traveling all over each other’s bodies, wanting to touch. 

Steve pushes Bucky on the bed again and straddles him, grinds his hips down and watches him gasp, eyes fluttering shut at the contact of their hard cocks rubbing together even through the fabric of their underwear. Steve groans, a new wave of arousal running through his skin, and something shifts inside him, like a spark that rekindles the flame. In a swift move he pulls down Bucky’s underwear and then his own, making Bucky swear softly under his breath. Steve smirks, entirely too satisfied, and goes to fetch the small box of condoms and bottle of lube he’s packed for the trip, just in case. Not in hopes of hooking up with Bucky, but to be prepared in case of unexpected hook ups during the holiday period. Right now, though, the only person he can think about is Bucky, laid out on the bed, waiting for him. 

Steve crawls back on the bed slowly and dips his head, pressing kisses to Bucky’s hips, watching him struggle to stay still, and while Steve would love to tease him some more, he puts his mouth on Bucky’s dick, wrapping his lips around the head. Bucky moans loudly, and damn, the sound sends shivers down his spine. To watch him come undone gives Steve a smug sense of satisfaction, like he’s got the upper hand for once. He starts sucking him down, working to get as much as he can into his mouth, twirling his tongue around the head and wrapping a hand around the base to jerk him off in time. His own dick twitches with anticipation, listening to the loud cries that escape Bucky’s mouth, but he only stops when he doesn’t want to wait any longer. 

“Steve,” Bucky’s practically whimpering. “Fuck me, please, Stevie, I want your dick in me.”

“No.”

Bucky groans, a half-strangled sound. “ _ Please, _ ”

Steve shakes his head. Normally, he wouldn't refuse to do as Bucky asks him to, take care of him, make him feel good; Steve loves that. Right now, though, he feels a little selfish, and wants to do things his way. Not that he'd ever do something that Bucky didn't want; the way Bucky's eyes widen as he watches Steve slick his fingers and reach down between his own legs tells him that Bucky is totally on board. Steve bites down on his lip at the feel of his cool fingers slipping inside him, two at once because fuck it, he’s impatient. He takes a little time to prep himself, and when Bucky reaches out, wanting to help out, Steve swats his hand away, making a ‘nuh uh’ sound. Bucky pouts, all mock hurt, but soon his mouth falls open when Steve curls a hand around his dick, quickly slipping a condom on, and then holds it firmly in one hand while lowering himself on it. 

Bucky draws in a sharp breath. “Oh,  _ fuck _ ,”

Steve throws his head back, eyes fluttering shut as he tries to even his breathing. He sinks down all the way, until every inch of Bucky’s cock is deep inside him, and pauses for a moment, giving himself time to adjust to the stretch. It feels good, when he starts moving, circling his hips slowly. Bucky is peering up at him through half-lidded eyes, his hands grasping Steve’s hips strongly, and he looks like he’s barely holding himself back from thrusting his hips up to meet with Steve’s. 

Steve picks up the rhythm gradually, and starts fucking himself on Bucky’s dick faster, harder, every push of his hips sending sparks of pleasure down his spine. He doesn’t hold himself back, but the only sounds that escape his mouth are breathless little moans, jaw slack and eyelids squeezed shut. God, it feels  _ good. _ Steve loses himself in the feeling.

Bucky sits up then, reaching to grab Steve’s neck with a hand, pull him down for a hungry, desperate kiss. Steve moans into it, throwing his arms around Bucky’s neck and threading his fingers through his hair, grabbing a handful of it and holding it tightly as he keeps moving his hips, with Bucky’s arms around his back helping him keep his balance. They move together in that position, slower but no less enthusiastic.

“Fuck, Stevie,” Bucky whispers, a low, throaty sound that goes straight to Steve’s dick. His grip on Steve tights, fingers digging into the pale, smooth skin of his hips. “You feel so good, babe, so good.”

Steve groans. He pushes at Bucky’s shoulder until his back hits the mattress again and Steve can resume his previous position, only now there’s a new urgency to his movements, speeding things up. It’s not long until the pleasure starts building up and he feels himself getting closer. Bucky must be able to tell because he brings his hand and curls it around Steve’s cock, stroking him, grip firm, moving his hand to the rhythm of Steve’s thrusts. Moments later, Steve comes with a loud cry, spilling on Bucky’s stomach and chest, and Bucky curses under his breath, voice strained. He reaches out to grip Steve’s hips again and helps him keep his balance as he starts thrusting upwards, until he too climaxes. 

“Shit,” Bucky gasps when Steve rolls off him and collapses on the bed next to him. 

“Yeah,” is Steve’s breathless response.

“I’m putting that in my list of our best fucks.”

Steve giggles, sounding light and happy. Bucky turns to face him then, curling in on himself a little. “I miss you,” he whispers. 

Silence lapses between them. Steve keeps his gaze fixed on the ceiling while he tries to gather his thoughts. He can’t lie and say he doesn’t miss Bucky, because God, he misses him  _ so much _ , every waking moment, with every fibre of his being. But a part of him, the one that’s still bitter about their break-up doesn’t want to admit it to Bucky.

Eventually he turns his head and looks Bucky in the eye, and what he sees in those pale blue-gray eyes makes his heart clench. There’s something so raw, a nostalgic kind of sorrow, the kind that he never wants to see in Bucky’s eyes. 

“I miss you, too, Buck,” Steve says eventually, voice barely above a whisper. 

Bucky’s eyes water. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, voice breaking, and Steve can’t help but lean in and kiss him softly, placing a hand on his cheek in an attempt to comfort him. 

They fall asleep wrapped around each other, with their arms and legs tangled together. 

  
  


 

 

**22nd of December 2016, 09:06AM**

 

“Get off your ass, jerk.”

Bucky blinks sleepily. He’s still in bed, and naked, but at least he’s managed to sit up. “Steve,” he croaks. “I literally just woke up. Give me a minute, okay? My brain’s not working.”

“What, did someone fuck you senseless or something?” Steve quips as he goes through his bag, repacking everything. His back is turned to Bucky, which is why he doesn’t see him throw the pillow until it hits his back, but it only makes him giggle. 

“Punk.”

It only takes them an hour to get back on the road, and while Steve pretends to be all sorts of annoyed and gives Bucky shit about it, he doesn’t actually mind all that much. It’s only a seven hour drive until they reach their hometown. Once they get in the car and Steve puts the music on, he feels energetic and ready for the drive. Twenty-four tracks later, the playlist changes, and Steve fumbles and hurries to yank the aux cord from his iPod when the first few notes of an all-too-familiar song start playing.

“Was that Taylor Swift?”

“No.”

“It totally was! What song was it?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Steve glares at the road ahead of him.

Bucky cackles. “Never would have pegged you for a Swiftie. That’s your new nickname, by the way, because I can’t not make fun of you for this.”

Steve makes a soft humming sound in response, feigning indifference, wishing Bucky will drop it, but his hands tighten on the steering wheel. It’s not the artist that’s the problem. That particular playlist...it’s not something he’s willing to share with anyone, much less Bucky. 

“What happened to Steve ‘I only listen to bands no one’s ever heard of’ Rogers?”

“He died.” Steve deadpans, and Bucky snorts in laughter. 

“And his soul passed on to Steve ‘Swiftie’ Rogers? Shame.” Bucky hums thoughtfully. “Hey, you do you. If you wanna listen to song after song about-”

Bucky cuts his sentence short abruptly and falls silent. A short moment passes where neither speak. There’s tension building up in the cramped space of the car and it suddenly feels too hot. Steve opens his window.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Bucky looks at him from the corner of his eye. 

“Not really.”

“About what happened last night, I mean.”

Steve sighs. “I got that.”

“I just think-”

“Buck,” he turns his head for a second to look at him. “Not now, okay?”

Bucky nods and turns his head towards his window to watch the views as they drive by. Not that there’s anything interesting to see. They drive in silence for a while until Bucky silently reaches out for his own phone and plugs it in, putting his music library on shuffle. An instrumental piece starts playing and Steve shoots him a little smile of gratitude, because he really hates driving in silence. 

The rest of the trip is relatively uneventful, and not as tense, thankfully. They make a couple of stops to fill the gas tank and buy some food, and once again take turns driving, and make it home sooner than planned. It may have helped that Steve chose to ignore the speed limit on a few occasions, even if it meant getting chewed out by Bucky who kept saying it’s the last time he’s getting in a car with Steve because he wants to make it to his 23rd birthday, thank you very much. 

Steve drops Bucky off by his apartment building and says goodbye to him and Mishka, who’d been much less enthusiastic the second day of driving. Poor thing must’ve hated it, being stuck in a car for so long. 

It’s only when he drives off that Steve feels the exhaustion creeping up his spine. He only manages to stay awake long enough to catch up with his mom a bit and unpack a few things before he showers and crawls into bed, drifting off to sleep moments after his head hits the pillow. 

  
  
  


 

**26th of December 2016, 06:53PM**

 

“What were you thinking?!” Sam cries out, high pitched. “No, wait. Can you do me a favour and direct your phone towards your crotch so I can ask your dick what it was thinking?”

Steve snorts a laugh. “It’s not a big deal, Sam.”

“Oh, yeah, of course not.” Sam says, and Steve can practically see him rolling his eyes. “I knew I shouldn’t have let the two of you go on that road trip, if I’m not around to tell you “this is a bad idea”, you two morons will go around fucking shit up. Or, I guess, in this case, fucking each other.”

“Sam-”

“Don’t ‘Sam’ me.”

Steve sighs and flops down on the couch. “Did you call Bucky to yell at him, too?”

“No, but he’s next. I assume you two haven’t met or spoken to each other since the incident.”

“Nope.” Steve feigns a smile, though Sam can’t see it. “Don’t intend to, either. Like I said, it’s not a big deal. We hooked up once, it happened, that’s that. We’re not getting back together or anything.”

“Have you thought about the fact that you’re driving back together, too?”

“Yeah,” Steve winces. “Not looking forward to it.”

“Why not, you might stop for a quickie in Illinois.”

“That’s hilarious.”

“I’m hanging up on you now so I can go yell at Bucky.”

“Bye, Sam,” Steve says, the corners of his lips twitching up into a smile. Sam might have a penchant for chewing him out when he does stupid shit, but Steve knows it’s because of genuine concern, an almost-maternal instinct to take care of those around him. He’s known as the Mom friend in their group, and Steve wouldn’t have it any other way.

He is, however, confident that the things he told Sam are true. Exes get together for one last bang lots of times, or so he’s heard. Steve himself doesn’t make a habit of doing it. But being there with Bucky, so close to him...well. It had been a moment of weakness, though Steve doesn’t regret it. After all, the sex was pretty amazing, like it always was with Bucky. 

He groans and gets up, deciding to go for a run to clear his head.

  
  
  


 

**1st of January 2017, 01:36AM**

 

Steve has very nearly fallen asleep when he hears three loud knocks on the front door in quick succession. He startles awake, sitting up on the couch, blinking for a moment as he takes in his surroundings, and then realises he’s fallen asleep watching  _ Spongebob. _ On New Year’s, alone, on his mother’s couch, while said mother was at a big family party in Long Island. Steve had refused to go, not wanting to spend his night answering the ‘Where’s Bucky’ question, having to tell them about their breakup, receive more pitiful looks and ‘are you holding up okay?’ questions. Nevermind that at least one of his aunts would try to set him up with someone.

There’s three more knocks on the door and Steve snaps out of his thoughts and drags himself up and towards the front door, wondering who could it be at this hour.

“Bucky,” he breathes, eyes widening in surprise. 

Their eyes meet, and Bucky gives him a lopsided smile from where leaning on the doorframe, with his head resting on his folded arm. “Hey you,” he mumbles. He looks like he’s just come back from a fancy party, with a bow tie hanging loose around the collar of his white shirt, which is only half-tucked in a pair of expensive-looking pants. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

Reluctantly, Steve steps aside and allows him to enter his house, not missing the way Bucky reeks of hard booze; vodka, probably, knowing Bucky. The brunet walks over to the couch and flops down, holds out an arm to beckon Steve over, muttering “Hey, c’mere.”

“What do you want, Buck?” Steve asks as he goes over to sit next to him. 

Bucky reaches out to place a gentle hand on Steve's cheek, a sorrowful smile crossing his features. He drops his hand suddenly and looks down at his lap. “My grandma asked about you,” he says under his breath. 

Steve doesn’t know what to do with that information, so he remains silent and waits for Bucky to continue, trying not to find the way he pulls his bow tie from his neck and fumbles with it adorable. 

“She asked how is Steve, how are things between you, and I didn’t know what to say, she said ‘you better marry that boy’ and I just run to the bathroom and hid there for a half hour, looking at our photos in my phone and it just made me want to cry even more,” Bucky rambles, his voice breaking on that last part. He sounds miserable, tormented, and when he looks up again, Steve sees it all in his eyes, his pain, his heartache and it hurts him. He wants to reach out and wrap Bucky in his arms, pull him to his chest and comfort him, tell him it’s okay, let him cry his eyes out.

“I just - I couldn’t stand it.” Bucky continues, his eyes welling up with tears that he refuses to shed. “It was bad enough seeing all those happy couples all night, and then I was watching Lizzie with Max having their first dance, and they were playing that dumb song, and there was this lyric about growing old together or something...and I almost cried. What a cliche, right?”

“Your cousin Lizzie? You were at her wedding?”

Bucky nods. “I had...I had put you down as my plus one,” he reaches out, tracing the back of Steve’s hand with his fingers. “Remember?”

“I’d forgotten about it, to be honest.”

Silence stretches between them. There’s shouts and cheers from party-goes, passing by outside, their voices carrying over even through closed windows. Bucky draws in a long breath and lets it out. 

“It would’ve been us,” he whispers, barely audible. When prompted to clarify, he speaks a little louder. “I kept thinking how that would have been us. At the wedding.”

Steve finds himself at a loss for words, which is a rare thing in itself. “Buck…”

“Eventually, it would have been, right?” Bucky meets his gaze, and there’s something in his eyes that makes Steve feels like he’d be lying if he said otherwise. 

“Yeah, I guess.”

Bucky lets out a strangled sound, a sob ripped out from inside him without his permission. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Steve, I’m so sorry.”

Steve can’t help himself. He scoots closer to the man and reaches out with his arms open, sighing when Bucky falls in them, clinging onto him desperately. Steve gets a hand in his hair, undoing his messy ponytail and letting his hair loose, while his other hand rubs his back soothingly. 

“I fucked up, Steve,” Bucky mumbles into his chest.

Steve doesn’t reply. He tries to comfort Bucky as best as he can, waiting patiently until he’s all out of tears and can speak again. When Bucky lets go of him, Steve goes to get him a glass of cold water from the kitchen and makes him drink it to help him sober up a little. 

“Sorry,” Bucky mumbles, eyes glued to the now-empty glass. “For showing up like this, I-” he stands up abruptly. “I should go.”

“Hey, no,” Steve curls a hand around his wrist, stopping him. He can’t stand the thought of Bucky being upset and having no one to talk about, because Bucky, being Bucky, wouldn’t want to unload his problems onto anyone else, not for something this big. Sure, he’d bitch and whine about his professors’ ridiculous demands and the obnoxious customers at the hipster cafe where he works, but bare his soul to just anyone? Nah. 

Bucky pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing on it nervously.

“Stay. Talk to me, please.” Steve tugs gently and Bucky flops down on the couch again, sitting with a knee bended under his leg so he can face Steve. 

When Bucky doesn’t speak, and the silence gets too tense, Steve prods him on. “What’s wrong, Buck?”

In response he gets a sarcastic snort. “You really gotta ask that?”

“Yeah, I do.” Steve clenches his jaw. “You were the one who ended things.”

Bucky’s face scrunches up into an ugly, miserable grimace, like he’s about to cry again. “I know,” he chokes out. “It’s my fault. I did this. I did this, I can’t believe I did this to us, Steve.”

Steve presses his lips together. “What happened tonight, Bucky? Why - why did you come here?”

A shrug. “I miss you.”

Bucky stares at him, piercing blue eyes peering into his soul, something fierce and determined in his expression. Steve can’t hold his gaze for longer than ten seconds. He gets up and starts pacing around the room, running a frustrated hand through his hair. 

“You can’t - you can’t do this, Buck,”

“I know, it’s just - there’s things I never told you,” Bucky whispers, guilt evident in his voice. “Would you hear me out, please? You don’t have to give me a second chance, I know I don’t deserve it-”

Steve snaps his head around and glares at him, and Bucky closes his mouth abruptly. An uncomfortable feeling, something akin to anxiety coils in his stomach, and Steve sighs, shoulders slumping. He sits on the couch and leans forward with his elbows resting on his knees.

“I’ve been wondering, to this day, what happened,” Steve breathes. “Couldn’t figure it out. I thought things were good between us. Everyone told us we were relationship goals. I loved you,” he huffs and glances at Bucky with a smile, albeit a little bitter. “I still do. I went crazy thinking about it, Buck. When you said you wanted a break...”

“I fucked up, Steve.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Because I did,” Bucky reaches out and grabs his arm in a strong grip. “I had a good thing with you and I fuckin’ blew it, just because I got scared and I panicked and I was a fucking dumbass, Steve.”

Steve stares at him, a cold look in his eyes. All he wants to do is give in and crawl back to Bucky, nestle in the comfort of his arms and cling to him, determined not to let go. But Steve is still hurt. He’s still reeling from the breakup, despite what he tells others. Yeah, they worry too much, and he’s mostly fine, but he feels betrayed, because someone he loved and cared about and trusted woke up one day and decided they didn’t want to be with him anymore.

He tries to keep his distance, but he’s dying to know, to have his questions answered. “What happened?” he repeats. 

Bucky lets go of his arm and hunches his shoulders, almost curling into himself. “When we were together, did you ever think, we’re either gonna break up or end up together?”

Steve blinks at him. 

“I mean, those are the two outcomes of any relationship, right? You either marry the person you’re with or at some point along the line you break up and go your separate ways.” Bucky looks down at his lap, looking almost ashamed. “I got scared, thinking about it. For both those things. Either way, it made me panic a little. I couldn’t imagine my life without you if we ever broke up. But then I thought, we were talking about getting a place together, and we’d been together for three years and it felt like that was it, we were settling down, and God, we’re so young, Steve, I just-” he shrugs. “I panicked. I don’t know why I thought ending the relationship was a good idea, maybe because doing it before it inevitably happened sooner or later gave me a false sense of control over the whole thing.”

Steve is silent for a long time, trying to process it. Eventually, he licks his lips before he says, “Why do you think we would break up sooner or later?”

Bucky shrugs again. “I don’t know. Isn’t that what always happens? I’ve heard too many stories of people getting divorced or being in an unhappy marriage, saying how they got married too young, or whatever. I just...I didn’t want to wake up one day when I’m in my 40’s and realise I don’t love you anymore. I can’t imagine I would ever stop loving you, but...”

“Buck…”

“It’s dumb, I know.”

“It’s not,” Steve reaches out and takes a hold of Bucky’s hand, holding it between his own. “It makes a lot of sense, actually. I just wish you would have told me all this earlier.”

“Why?”

“Because I would have called you a dumbass and smacked you around the head and not let you go.”

“Steve-”

“I’ve been wondering what the fuck did I do, where I went wrong, how did I mess up,” Steve smiles, self-depreciating. “Things were great one moment, and the next you were walking out the door and saying goodbye and it was killing me, Buck, not knowing what went wrong. All I could think was you got tired of putting up with me-”

“Hey, no, don’t say that.” Bucky frowns at him, and Steve smiles a real smile. 

“Well, why not? I know I’m an obnoxious pain in the ass sometimes.”

“Aren’t I, too?”

“Yeah, but I love you anyway.”

“I love you, too.”

Steve holds Bucky’s head in his hands and leans in to kiss him, a chaste, though firm press of lips. Bucky looks surprised when they break apart, and Steve can’t help but press another, gentler kiss to his mouth, because God, he’s missed kissing Bucky. 

“Buck,” Steve says after breathing out a sigh. “It doesn’t matter. Whether we break up, or end up getting married. Maybe we’ll grow old together. Maybe we’ll end up hating each others’ guts and get divorced. It doesn’t matter if it happens next month or next year or twenty years from now. Whatever we have together, however much time I can have you, I’ll take it. Because I want to be with you, now, and for as long as I can. Do you want to be with me?”

“Yes,” answers Bucky, almost immediately, like he doesn’t need to think twice about it. 

“Will you be with me, then? Now, and however long we can be together?”

Bucky nods, tears forming in his eyes again. “Yes,” he breathes out shakily, and then they’re kissing again, and it’s a little sloppy, a tangle of tongues and teeth, the taste a mix of martinis and salty tears as they both start crying and laughing through their tears while still kissing, but it’s perfect anyway, because this is them, Steve and Bucky, together, how they should be.

Later, when they lie naked in Steve’s too-narrow childhood bed, Bucky rests his head on Steve’s chest, listening to his heartbeat return to normal. When he speaks, his voice is but a whisper in the darkness of the room. “Will you ever forgive me?”

Steve kisses his forehead. “Nothing to forgive, sweetheart.”

“I hurt you. I know I did.”

“There’s ways you can make up for that.”

“Steve, I’m serious.” Bucky lifts his head to look at him, but he cracks into a smile when he sees Steve grinning, the look in his face all kinds of suggestive. “Shut up. Let me apologise.”

“Fine.”

“I’m sorry for all the pain I caused you.”

Steve’s face softens. He reaches out to tuck a strand of Bucky’s hair behind his ear. “I forgive you, Buck. You didn’t hurt me on purpose. And I know you hurt yourself, too.”

“We did establish that I was a complete dumbass.”

“Yep,”

Bucky cuddles up to him again, throwing an arm and a leg over Steve’s stomach and thighs, using him as a full-body pillow. “You looking forward to telling all our friends?” he asks, and Steve groans in response. 

“Oh my God,” he mumbles a moment later. “Sam is gonna yell at us again.”

“He called you too?”

“Yep.”

Bucky hums thoughtfully. “Technically, he was wrong. It wasn’t bad idea. It got us back together, didn’t it?” he sits up suddenly. “Wait, we...we are back together, right?”

Steve has to bite back a laugh at the expression on Bucky’s face, the wide eyes combined with the downwards pout of his mouth. “Yeah, Buck, we are.”

“Good,” Bucky grins, his whole face lighting up, and settles in Steve’s embrace again. 

  
  
  


 

**23rd of July 2017, 12:33PM**

 

Steve hears his boyfriend’s voice as soon as he opens the front door of their new apartment and walks in, smiling to himself. Bucky’s in the kitchen, singing while he makes them a big breakfast with eggs and pancakes; never mind that it’s past noon.

_ “...head in the clouds but my gravity centereeed, touch my neeeeck and I'll touch youuurs, me in my little high waisted shoorts ohh…” _

“Huh, how come I’ve never seen you in them?” Steve jokes, coming up behind Bucky, who startles and jumps a little. 

“Hey, you’re early,” Bucky grins, pulling him close by the front of his t-shirt to kiss him. “Did you bring the last of the boxes?”

“Yup.” Steve says, nodding towards the living room where he’s left them. 

“So we’re officially moved in?”

Bucky looks absolutely giddy. Steve can’t help but smile back, snaking his arms around Bucky’s waist and pulling him closer. “Sure looks like it.”

“Mm, can’t wait to wake up next to you every day.”

“Naked, yes?”

“Yes, Steve, naked.”

Steve grins and kisses him, soft and slow, while Bucky sighs into the kiss, placing his palms on either side of Steve’s face, thumbs caressing his cheeks softly. 

“You wanna go break in our new bed?” Steve asks, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Hmm,” Bucky turns around to turn the stove off while Steve starts pressing kisses to his neck, reluctant to let go until Bucky turns to face him, settling into his arms and kissing him again.

“Eggs can be reheated, right?”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has been brought to you by two breakups, a handful of post-breakup au ideas and countless plays of arctic monkey's 'do i wanna know.' i feel like i poured my heart&soul into it so really hope you enjoyed it. of course i would love to hear your thoughts on it (:
> 
> big thanks to @worthystevie, @whatthefoucault and @anactualtreeofcats for reading it through for me


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